Top of the muffin, to ya!: Week 3

Stress: I eats it.

The grocery list in my purse on Tuesday included asparagus, collard greens, chickpeas, tofu and a host of other ingredients that would warrant - best case scenario - a side eye from my husband and a furtive glance at the cabinet to make sure we had plenty of cereal in case my concoctions took a turn for the gross.

As I pulled into a parking spot at the grocery store, I chatted on the phone with a friend about something silly.  As soon as we came to a swift conclusion regarding the minutia in my life, she gently and gracefully told me that the previous day, she found out she has cancer.

Rather than explain one of the most horrifying conversations of my life - where we both managed to cry and laugh - I'll just tell you what was in my cart when I left:

chocolate pudding cups
Fruit Roll-ups
canned pasta (spaghetti-o's)
Almond Joy coffee creamer
cookie dough

I'd like to say that I came to my senses when I unloaded the fat grenades from the trunk, but..

Because my friend lives so very far away and I couldn't bake her a casserole or give her a hug or watch her children to give her a break, I did the next most helpful thing:

During Harper's nap, I catatonically sat on the couch - eating pieces of chewy, artificially flavored high fructose corn syrup - and cried the Mom Cry (which is the 5-second boohoo from which you recover as quickly as it started.  Almost like it didn't happen? This generally occurs spontaneously several times over the course of the day so that it equals one good cry, but your mascara doesn't run as much and your eyes don't stay swollen all day.) while reading everything the Internet had to offer on her illness.

A couple of days later, I was trying to get a grip when..

The heavens snowed a foot and the power went out for 36 hours.

Somehow, Toddler + Treacherous Roads + Husband Working Hours Later Than Expected = Wendy's Spicy Chicken sandwich

In this very second, I could tell you 15 things that would render you incapable of ever eating another piece of chicken.

The fog lifted on Friday morning, when I woke to a warm house, an electrified coffee maker and a head full of statistics and hope for my friend.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday were filled with fresh fruit, veggies, green tea, water and activity.

Somehow, I managed to shock my body so harshly that I lost 1 pound, which is roughly equivalent to a chair blowing off the deck of a cruise ship.

Next week, I'm back on the horse. Full time. The normal horse, not the crazy horse (not the Native American war leader and especially not the Myrtle Beach variety).